Who Rules the Night?
by Rider Paladin
Summary: TV-based: A new Batman prowls the streets of New Gotham. Old friends make their return to New Gotham, and old enemies begin to emerge from the shadows to challenge the Birds of Prey.
1. On Leather Wings

"Who Rules the Night?"

Chapter 1: "On Leather Wings"

Disclaimer: Birds of Prey, the TV series, belongs to Laeta Kalogridis and The CW (formerly WB), as well as DC Comics by way of source material. Said source material, the Batman comic franchise in its entirety, belongs to DC Comics and DC Entertainment. I make no money whatsoever from the use of any of the characters depicted, as very few of them are actually mine.

Author's note: This is my and JOUNOUCHI-sama's take on what a second season of Birds of Prey would have been like had it not been canceled. If you're up on your Batman history, the title of this story – at least in terms of inspiration – should give you some inkling as to what it's about. In case you can't deduce that, though, I'll put it in simple terms.

**BATMAN IS BACK, BITCHES.**

_Or is he?_

* * *

"Oh, thank God . . . thank God . . . we lost him."

"Who the hell was that guy?"

"I don't know! I don't _freaking_ know!"

"You think it's . . . you think it's . . ."

"No, no, _no!_ Don't say it! Don't even think it, you lousy son of a bitch!"

"Come on, man! You saw what happened to the others!"

"It could be that Huntress chick! She's pretty brutal!"

"No, she's having fun. This guy . . . this son of a bitch was serious. Like he wanted to kill us!"

"Now you're just talking bull. No way he'd kill us. Even if it was him, that ain't how he rolls."

"For both our sakes, you'd better be sure that ain't how he rolls."

The two crooks were in a dark alley, having paused their frightful flight from their assailant to catch their breaths. Whoever the monster was, he'd taken down a drug buy's guard detail with enough weapons and armor to possibly outgun a small nation's army. Worse, he'd done it all with nothing more than his fists and feet, and occasionally knees and elbows. Even worse, he'd struck from the shadows, with such alacrity that most of the guards never knew what hit them, and every single bullet had missed him, no matter how hard and how frantically they'd been pulling the triggers.

The crooks were shaken out of their recollections by an ominous shadow descending upon them. "_No!_" one of them, a youngish man with dirty blond hair half-covered by a ski cap, shouted, pulling out his gun and shooting wildly. "_You're not taking me alive!_"

The bullets seemed to pass through the shadow, and all that could be seen to indicate it was anything more than a shadow were a pair of blazing white eyes. The other crook, a leather-jacketed man with a hood pulled up over his head, wisely attempted to flee – key word being _attempted._ The sudden, horrible sensation of a sharp object hitting him in the back of his calf sent him collapsing to the ground in pain. His partner was downed by a knee to the stomach, an elbow to the back of his head as he tried to recover, and a stomp to his hand to keep him from further attempts at shooting his attacker.

"Who the hell are you?" the hoodie-wearing man screamed, terrified that this would be how he would meet his end.

The shadow turned to him and light briefly shined on its features, revealing nothing but black and dark gray . . . and a dreadfully familiar symbol in the center of it all.

"No, no, no . . . no, no . . . NO!" the man screamed. "You can't . . . you can't be . . ."

"Can't be? I am," the shadow answered grimly. "I want you to tell your friends . . . everyone you know . . . that the Dark Knight returns."

With that declaration, the shadow suddenly lifted off into the sky, as though ascending back to the heavens like a god of vengeance having just pronounced and carried out his sentence. The man in the hoodie looked up at the night sky with terror, fearing what else might come out of the shadows. After what seemed like forever, he gained enough courage to crawl on his arms to his disoriented partner.

"Was that . . . was that really . . . ?"

Said partner was too disoriented to say much beyond a simple curse.

"Damn . . ."

* * *

". . . Batman's back," an imposing Hispanic man in the first stages of male baldness, the newly appointed Chief Angel Rojas, growled. He'd been trying to sort out the information he'd gotten about the Dark Knight's return for hours. "Of all the . . . the last thing I needed . . ."

Just then, a handsome, youthful African-American man dressed in a clean shirt and tie with a dress jacket over it entered. "You called me, Chief?" he asked.

"Detective Jesse Reese," Rojas growled. "This seems to be up your alley."

"What?" Reese asked.

"Don't play dumb," Rojas snarled. "Batman! Batman has once again shown his pointy ears in this city! We worked hard, you know . . . all those years he's been gone . . . cleaning up the streets our way."

"With all due respect, Chief . . ."

Rojas silenced his protest with a particularly dark glare, an easy feat considering his dark brown eyes that could give off an unfathomable coldness when he was angry enough. This was one of those times, apparently, and Jesse Reese was on the receiving end of his new chief's stare.

"And now he's gonna screw it all up," Rojas continued his rant. "The freaks are gonna come back out, and then it'll be open season on the good people of New Gotham. I won't allow it. Reese! You and your new partner are going to be working together to bring Batman in. And it'd be nice if you could also bring down those other vigilantes running around town messing things up."

Reese bristled, although he tightly held it in. He wasn't sure if this was the same Batman, but he had his heart in the right place . . . and so did the women that had taken up his mantle in his absence. Hell, he was seeing one of them, in her civilian alias of Helena Kyle – though why she didn't cover her face when she went out at night was lost on him.

"Who's my new partner?" Reese asked.

Just then, the door opened and a youthful-looking man in a dark jacket over a light blue shirt entered. Briefly assessing him, Reese noticed that many women would find the other man highly attractive, and the small smattering of gray in his hair added a certain hint of maturity that women tended to like. The man's eyes were blue, and aglitter with mischief, but with steel underneath the lightness . . . a lot like what he saw in Helena's eyes, now that Reese thought about it.

"Hello, Detective," Rojas greeted the new arrival. "Reese, this is Dick Grayson. We just transferred him in from Blüdhaven. He'll be your partner."

"Hi," Reese greeted Grayson amiably, holding out a hand for him to shake. "I'm Detective Jesse Reese."

Grayson took Reese's hand, shaking it politely but firmly before letting go, leaving Reese to massage the aching joints of that hand. "Nice to meet you." He turned to Rojas. "You have us on the Batman case?"

"Yeah," Rojas replied. "I want you to find this joker and I want you to put him in handcuffs. If he resists, feel free to put a few bullets in his ass."

"Batman and the Joker are two different people," Grayson protested.

"A freak's a freak," Rojas scoffed. "Now what are you two waiting for? Get out and get started."

As Reese and Grayson left the office of Chief Rojas, they looked at each other, a moment of shared epiphany passing between them. _Chief Rojas is an asshole._

Reese spoke first, once they were somewhere they could have relative security in their words. "What do _you_ think of Batman?"

"It doesn't matter," Grayson replied. "We have a job. But I'm certainly not going to shoot him, at least not more than I have to."

"This city's starting to rot again," Reese mused aloud. "And as much as I hate to admit it, we can't clean it up all by ourselves. We're too compromised."

"Not that much different from what I put up with back in Blüdhaven, but I hear the new generation is a bit sloppier than the old guard," Grayson remarked. "Are you sure it's a good idea to rely on them?"

"At least they're doing it for the right reasons," Reese answered. "Too many people here are just in it for a paycheck or a pension or in the Mob's pockets. Now, you can tell me, just between the two of us . . . what do you _really_ think?"

Grayson paused, as though deeply considering what she was about to say. "I think . . ."

* * *

". . . he's a fraud," Helena Kyle bitterly stated. "Even if it was Bruce Wayne in that cape and cowl, he's still a fraud. What hero just runs out on his city?"

"This isn't Batman," Barbara Gordon, also known as Oracle, insisted as she briefly removed her glasses to wipe them clean. "He might have the motif and the style, but the way he moves when he fights is nothing like Bruce Wayne. It's too forceful and too free-flowing to be Bruce."

"What about your ex-boyfriend?" Helena suggested. "Nightwing over in Bludhaven? It could be him."

"Dick preferred to fight with finesse," Barbara replied. "This Batman is far too aggressive in his fighting style."

"Could it be Jason Todd?" Dinah Lance, the would-be Black Canary, offered while performing some athletic stretches.

"Jason's dead, Dinah," Barbara stated, and the edge in her tone made it clear that there was still bad blood from that.

"Sorry," Dinah murmured sheepishly. "Didn't mean to . . ."

"Tim Drake?" Helena wondered.

"Not his style, either," Barbara denied.

"What do you think is going on with this guy?" Helena asked. "Me, personally, I think it's just some punk playing dress-up who thinks he's badass because he got some training."

"_Merely_ 'some training'?" Alfred Pennyworth asked curiously. "From what footage we've found, he's quite a bit more capable than you think he is."

"He got lucky," Helena grumbled.

"Maybe, but I want to meet him," Barbara said. "If he knows what he's doing, we give him help. If he doesn't know what he's doing, we bring him in and train him until he _knows_ what's he doing like the back of his hand."

"We train him?" Helena asked in a disbelieving tone.

"It would be a wise thing to do, to gather more allies to your side," Alfred remarked. "After all, there are only two of you who can actually go out in the field, and Detective Reese can only do so much from inside New Gotham PD. Having someone who can take some of that load off your shoulders would work out well."

"Or he could be another Darkstrike," Helena countered. "Somebody as screwed up as the guys he's fighting against."

"Maybe," Barbara admitted, "but we're not going to know until we meet with him and see for ourselves."

"Why don't we just kick his ass and make him tell us who he is?" Helena suggested.

"Why are you so against this guy?" Dinah asked. "He could be a big help."

"He's not help," Helena replied. "He's trouble. Whoever he is, that guy's cosplaying Batman, and that means he has a huge target on his chest."

"That _is_ what the symbol is for, Miss Helena," Alfred commented wryly.

"Whatever," Helena groused. "Him going around pretending to be Batman means that there'll be a bunch of crooks desperate to make their bones on his corpse. We're better off getting him to hang up the costume and go back to being whatever he was before he got that bright idea into his head."

Alfred smiled. "You remind me a lot of your father right now. After Master Jason, he was very reluctant to accept further partners, not that there weren't those that tried. Miss Barbara had a hard time getting into his good graces for quite a while. Looking back now, I think he was just being territorial. He didn't exactly trust very many people."

Helena glared into Alfred's smile. "At least I didn't run out on my city when she needed me."

"'My city'?" Barbara repeated, bemused. "You even talk like him."

Helena muttered under her breath before walking toward the door. "I got work right now. I'll see what I can do about the newbie after I'm done. Later." With that, she had left the Clock Tower and left Barbara and Alfred rather amused and Dinah just stunned.

"Wow, she's got a lot of daddy issues," the blonde girl remarked. "Not that I can blame her."

"Don't you have some homework to do?" Barbara asked sardonically. As Dinah left to do her homework, mumbling something about "cosplay" and Helena being an "otaku," Barbara looked at Alfred with a worried expression. "I'm hoping for the best, but . . ."

"You expect the worst," Alfred finished. "It's a wise strategy to keep one alive and mostly unscathed. I am curious, though, as to what sort of man is currently wearing the mantle of the Bat . . . and whether or not he will do justice to Master Bruce's legacy."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Reese and Grayson were having a conversation in a café Reese frequented whenever he needed some energy to pull an all-nighter. "You were Bruce Wayne's son by adoption, right?"

"That what you wanna start this convo with?" Grayson asked, smiling lightly to let Reese know he meant no offense. "Yeah, I am. What of it?"

"Just wondering what makes a son of privilege become a cop and willfully work his way up from the bottom of the pecking order," Reese remarked amiably.

"Wasn't always," Grayson admitted. "Used to be a circus brat. Then Zucco happened, and Bruce Wayne gave me a home. They caught Zucco, but I wanted to make sure nothing like that would happen to some other kid. So I became a cop."

"Why be a cop in Bludhaven?" Reese asked.

"People needed me there," Grayson replied simply. "Now, I've been hearing on the grapevine that you're dating someone I might be somewhat familiar with."

"Helena?" Reese echoed. "You know her?"

"Know her? We're practically brother and sister," Grayson quipped. "Your turn now. What brings you to New Gotham PD?"

"Trying to atone for the past," Reese replied. "My family . . . they weren't necessarily the best people."

"Lotta families aren't," Grayson mused. "You love them, anyway."

"Mine went too far," Reese confessed. "Mine did things that would turn any right-minded person's stomach. When I found out, I couldn't stomach it and cut all ties with them."

"In other words, you're trying to be the white sheep of the family," Grayson remarked.

"Do you always make such lame puns?" Reese asked.

"Yes," Grayson replied with a grin. "It makes life worthwhile if you can laugh once in a while."

At that moment, the waitress arrived to ask the two detectives what they'd like. Reese didn't miss how the waitress's eyes lingered over Grayson's form, and he couldn't help but wonder what the older man's secret was. Grayson, for his part, seemed utterly oblivious, amiably joking with the waitress as he made his order.

"And you, sir?" the waitress asked Reese.

"Just some cappuccino," Reese answered.

"I'll be right back," the waitress said, and turned on her heel to head back to get their coffees. Like with her roaming eyes, Reese didn't miss the waitress's almost casually sashaying hips as she walked. Likely, she was hoping Grayson was looking in her direction, but as before, Grayson was oblivious.

"You could get her number," Reese remarked. "Hell, I'll bet she'll slip it to you when we're about to go."

Grayson looked at Reese, lifting an eyebrow as though to ask what the other man was getting at. Reese looked into that curious face and just smiled knowingly.

"You mean you didn't notice the way she was looking at you?" Reese wondered, utterly incredulous.

"Oh . . ." Grayson uttered, realization sinking in. "Well, I might get to know her; she seems nice, but . . ."

"But you already have someone," Reese concluded. "Bet she'll be disappointed."

"It's not a matter of 'having' her," Grayson admitted. "Not yet, anyway. We kinda left it on a bad note, and now that I'm back in town, I want to try again." He smiled the smile that Reese thought could charm the pants off of virtually any woman, even the ones that didn't like men. "But never mind me. What's been going on with Helena lately?"

* * *

Speaking of Helena Kyle, she was beating the crap out of some would-be carjackers. As customary for such events, she was clad in a black leather coat, black bodice, black leather pants, and black boots. A silver collar with a birdlike object dangling from it and a pair of bat-shaped earrings accented the ensemble.

"Just who the hell does he think he is, anyway?" the Huntress asked angrily as her fist collided with a carjacker's face. She whirled into a roundhouse kick to another carjacker trying to sneak up behind her. "Freaking poser!" She slammed the heel of her palm into a third carjacker's nose, relishing the sound of breaking bone. A fourth carjacker ran at her with a crowbar, only for Huntress to smack it out of his hand and choke-slam him into the car he and his cohorts were going to steal.

The woman in that car would have fled, but she was mesmerized by the fight between Huntress and the men that would have stolen her car. That ended when she heard the sound of cracking glass, so hard had Huntress slammed one of the carjackers into the car. She saw Huntress glaring at her with unnaturally catlike eyes. "Get out of here, lady!"

The woman took Huntress's direction, started the car, and drove away from the scene as best as she could without breaking the speed limit or other traffic laws. As for Huntress, she looked around and saw that the carjackers were all lying on the ground in painful heaps. "Beat that, Batboy."

Just then, she heard the sound of slow clapping. "Nice," a deep, raspy voice greeted her. "You've done quite well for yourself."

"Where are you?" Huntress yelled. "Show yourself, you son of a bitch!"

Descending from the sky was a familiar yet unfamiliar shadow with outstretched wings akin to a bat's. When the shadow landed, the wings folded up around it, revealing to Huntress's advanced sight that they were more like a cape than actual wings. The shadow stayed in the darkness, but Huntress could make out shades of very dark gray amidst the blackness and a familiar-looking dull gold belt.

"You must be the Huntress," the shadow observed. "Quite reckless of you, going out like that."

"Don't talk to me like you're my father!" Huntress snapped.

"You're right, I'm _not_ your father," the shadow growled. "But going out without a mask? Stupid. Foolish. Careless."

"I don't like masks," Huntress commented offhandedly. "Not good for the hair."

"Never heard of a domino mask, rookie?" the shadow questioned snidely.

"You're just some punk who thinks he can be Batman because he got some cut-rate karate lessons," Huntress sneered.

"You wouldn't know the half of it," the shadow rasped. "I'll be seeing you . . . Helena."

With that, the shadow was gone, leaving an astonished Huntress behind. "What the hell?" she muttered to herself. She then spoke into the communicator dangling from her choker. "You get that, Oracle?"

"Yeah," Oracle replied. "I was doing a real-time voice analysis on him, and he's right. He's not Bruce . . . and he's not anyone else I'd be expecting, either."

"Well, he's got an attitude, whoever he is," Huntress grumbled.

"Sounds a lot like someone I know," Oracle remarked amusedly.

"What about Dinah?" Huntress asked.

* * *

The next morning, Dinah and Barbara were in school as student and teacher. It was homeroom, and Dinah had heard from the grapevine that there was a new student transferring in today. All around her, there were girls gossiping, wondering if the new student was a cute boy. The chatter, though, was interrupted by Barbara, who was about to make an announcement.

"Class, I'd like you to meet your new classmate." Barbara turned in her chair to nod to someone behind the classroom door, who turned the knob and opened said door before stepping in. "This is John Malone." As she spoke the last name, she blinked contemplatively, wondering where she'd heard it before.

John Malone was a tall teenage boy dressed in a black leather jacket over a dark green shirt and dark gray pants with black leather boots. He had black hair that looked almost deliberately mussed, with random strands hanging in his face. Green eyes stared out of that face, glittering with amusement, and his lips were quirked as though he found something funny.

"Hi," he greeted the class, surprising them with a relaxed tone that almost didn't jive with his deep voice. His lips had twisted into a full smile instead of the slight curl that suggested he was quietly laughing at something only he understood.

"John, there's an empty seat right by . . . Dinah Lance, over there," Barbara pointed out.

"Thanks, Ms. Gordon," John said, and strode over to that seat, which was to the left of a blushing Dinah. When he got there, he winked at her. "Hi."

"H-hi . . ." Dinah stammered. John just smiled at her, and Dinah felt herself go weak in the knees. Fortunately, she was sitting down and not standing; otherwise, she would have collapsed immediately.

* * *

After school was over, the Birds of Prey met in the Clock Tower. "You met a boy, didn't you?" Helena commented to Dinah while smirking at her.

"How did you know?" Dinah asked.

"Trust me, I know what a girl looks like when she's got a crush," Helena replied, still smirking.

"He's in her homeroom," Barbara added "helpfully." "And he's in a few other classes with her, too."

"What's his name and when do I meet him?" Helena asked.

"His name's John Malone," Dinah replied, blushing slightly.

"Interesting name," Alfred commented. "I presume he's an interesting young man as well, am I right?"

"Yeah . . ." Dinah admitted.

"So what's he like?" Helena asked.

"He's cute," Dinah replied. "And he's pretty smart."

"Smart _and_ cute?" Helena commented, teasing Dinah. "Tell me more."

"You have a boyfriend already!" Dinah pouted.

"Yeah, but I wanna know more about this guy so I can be sure he's not just playing around with you," Helena answered. "Big sister's duty to look out for little sis, remember?"

"Before we get carried away with discussion of Miss Dinah's potential love interest, I must ask about the encounter you had with this new Batman, Miss Helena," Alfred interjected.

"He had the nerve to diss me like he'd been at this thing longer than me," Helena grumbled, getting angry again at the thought of that encounter. "Smug little brat, I'd like to wring his neck."

"Well, he did have a point about you not wearing a mask," Barbara admitted.

"Sure, take his side," Helena muttered.

"Nonetheless, whoever he is . . . he isn't Bruce, that's for certain," Barbara went on.

"So who is he, then?" Dinah asked.

"I don't know," Barbara confessed. "The voice analyzer didn't give him away as Dick or Tim . . . or even Jean-Paul."

"Who's that guy?" Helena asked.

"Someone we don't talk about very often," Barbara replied. "Mainly because he was someone else that tried to be Batman . . . and wasn't exactly the best person for the job."

"You're worried that this young man could be another Azrael, Miss Barbara?" Alfred surmised, his remark more statement than question.

"It's possible," Barbara admitted. "With someone like Batman, there's bound to be imitators and emulators, but they're not always doing it for the right reasons or with the right tools."

"Thus, it's our duty to teach the ones we can teach and protect the city from the ones we can't teach," Alfred mused sagely.

"Good old Alfred," a voice familiar to Barbara and Alfred remarked. It had become somewhat lower with age, but there was no mistaking it.

"Dick . . . what are you doing here?" Barbara asked.

Dick Grayson, along with Jesse Reese, had entered the Clock Tower. "Hi, Babs," Dick greeted her, smiling pleasantly. "Jesse and I were assigned to find and arrest the new Batman. Mind if we coordinate that with you?"

* * *

End Notes: There you have it, my first foray into Birds of Prey fanfiction. It's a shame the show was canceled before its time, especially since the last four episodes were a serious jump in quality from the first episodes. Not to mention it had pretty strong ratings when it was airing, so I personally suspect there was some kind of internal politics behind the show getting canceled.

In any case, the players in this drama have been cast. A new Batman is in New Gotham, the new Gotham police chief (sourced from _The Batman_) has assigned Detective Reese to catch him, a new student has caught Dinah's eye, and Dick Grayson is back. At least two or three of these things are connected, but which ones and how? What is the true nature of the new Batman, and what will it mean for the Birds of Prey and New Gotham? For the answers to those questions and others, hang on tight for the next chapter and be sure to review.


	2. Bat Out Of Hell

"Who Rules The Night?"

Chapter 2: "Bat Out Of Hell"

Disclaimer: Birds of Prey and the larger Batman Universe belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers, while the televised incarnation of the series belongs to The CW (formerly the WB). I make no money from this story and I am only doing this for my own amusement.

Author's note: It's time to advance the mystery of the new Batman a little bit. So far, we've seen Dick Grayson, the original Robin and Batman's first partner, return from his absence. What other luminaries from the Batman Universe will make their returns here? What threats lurk behind the new Batman's arrival, waiting to bring the downfall of New Gotham? For the answers to those questions and others, keep reading.

* * *

"Hey, Reese," Helena greeted him. She turned to the man beside him. "What's up, Dick?"

"Been a long time, hasn't it, Helena?" Dick remarked. "I remember when you were this high." He held his hand up to his ribcage for emphasis. "And now . . . wow."

"Wow is the right word," Helena answered with a grin. "So, you here because of Batboy?"

"Yeah," Dick admitted. "I was going to transfer back anyway to see how things were going with you, but when I heard about the new Batman, I figured I might as well kill two birds with one stone."

"Is he always this funny?" Dinah asked.

Barbara aimed a sidelong glance at Dick before looking back at Dinah. "Not really," she replied.

"You wound me, Babs," Dick said, putting his hand to his heart in a melodramatic feint. "Really? You really think I'm not funny?"

"I think you're funny," Dinah said.

"You don't have to flatter me because I was the first Robin," Dick responded amiably. "Room to improve, right?"

"Indeed, Master Richard," Alfred remarked. "Do either you or Master Jesse wish for some tea?"

"No thanks," Reese replied.

"I'll be ok, Alfred," Dick answered. "Besides, the real problem is this new Batman, whoever he is."

"Wait, wait, wait," Reese cut in. "Why didn't you tell me you were the first Robin? All you said was, 'I'm familiar with how they work.' You didn't tell me you were _Robin._"

"You didn't ask," Dick replied lightly.

"And sometimes, you remind me too much of him for your own good," Helena remarked.

"You can't be raised by a man and not pick up some personality quirks, I'm afraid," Barbara observed wistfully. She turned to Dick. "Do you have any leads on this new Batman's identity?"

"Our first idea was to narrow it down to anyone who'd have resources and motive to try to take up his mantle," Dick answered.

"He's obviously a kid," Helena grumbled. "He's trying to do the old 'bat-growl' like he's a lot scarier than he really is, but he's still a kid."

"Most of us were kids when we started out," Dick remarked. "Although it sounds personal between you and him."

"He called me a rookie," Helena spat. "Like I was some punk kid that didn't know what they were doing."

"Well, you do certainly do things different than how we used to," Dick commented. "I'll admit, the domino mask doesn't cover much, but it covers something."

"Yeah, sure – take his side," Helena groused.

"It _is_ a good idea," Dick insisted amiably. "Then again, you might just be going the Superman route."

"Superman?" Reese asked.

"Let me let you in on a trade secret," Dick went on. "Half the time, Superman's as ordinary as most people. People just don't know that because he doesn't wear a mask and his persona is so larger than life that it never occurs to them that he's just as human, in his own way, as any of them."

"Heh, that works," Helena remarked with a slight smile.

"Back on topic, though," Barbara cut in. "I just crafted an analytical program designed to narrow down the list of suspects, with a special eye on recent arrivals in New Gotham. Whoever he is, we'll have some idea where to look. And speaking of looking . . . you planning on suiting up, Dick?"

"Not for the moment," Dick admitted somewhat sheepishly. "Not even sure that costume would fit me anymore."

Dinah palmed her face. "Oh, God . . . I just remembered, I made a study date."

"With whom?" Barbara asked.

"John Malone," Dinah replied. "The new kid in school."

"Sounds like somebody has a crush," Dick teased.

"No, I don't," Dinah protested, even as the blush marked her face.

"Sure you don't," Helena remarked, sounding unconvinced.

"Yeah, gang up on me, why don't you?" Dinah grumbled.

"For the days when love was that simple," Reese mused wistfully. He turned to leave. "Anyway, Dick, we gotta get back. Otherwise, Chief Rojas will throw a fit."

"The job is never done," Dick remarked lightly.

"You won't be staying for tea, Master Richard, Master Jesse?" Alfred asked.

"Unfortunately, we'll have to miss it," Dick replied. "Sorry, Alfred."

"Very well," Alfred assented. "I suppose it's in the nature of all my charges to be married to their work."

Dinah threw on her jacket and made a beeline for the exit. "See you, Hel, see you, Babs!" she called out as she left.

"Hey, don't be a stranger," Barbara called out to Dick as he and Reese began to leave.

"Goes for you, too," Helena called out to Reese.

"Not planning on it," Reese replied with a smile. "Soon as we're both off-duty, how about a cup of java?"

"That'd be nice," Helena agreed.

"Great," Reese said. "See you later."

As soon as Dick and Reese were out the door, Barbara rubbed her temples. "Wow, you guys must have had something serious going on," Helena remarked. "Never seen you that stressed out before."

"Dick and I . . . are complicated," Barbara answered.

"Love always is, Miss Barbara," Alfred observed. "But it is often also worthwhile, and something not to be given up on – at least not until all other options are exhausted."

"Not sure I believe you there," Barbara replied.

"Surely, you cannot be that cynical . . . but I do understand," Alfred responded. "Harleen Quinzel did us all a great deal of harm, but what she did to you was particularly personal."

"You have no idea," Barbara murmured. She still wondered, in the dead of night, if she'd done the right thing in letting Harley Quinn live. She was in Arkham right now under tight guard, but Arkham had a notorious history of porous confines. . . .

"Anyway, I'm gonna get to work," Helena said, swinging to her feet and heading out the secret entrance. "Keep me posted, Babs."

"Sure thing," Barbara answered.

* * *

Speaking of Arkham Asylum, one of Batman's more famous rogues was currently clenching her fists so tightly her nails had pierced her palms and drawn blood. This woman was a beautiful redhead whose milky pale skin and green eyes made her almost resemble one of the nature spirits of legend. Even the loose-fitting jumpsuit that served as her prison garb did little to hide her curvaceous frame, and while her hair had seen much better days, it was still quite bright.

"_. . . The curator for New Gotham's most prestigious museum very recently accepted the unique flower dubbed 'the Black Orchid of the Sahara.' Local media representatives will be coming to the museum later tonight to cover the unveiling that was promised when the curator, Daniel Graves, first acquired the rights to the Black Orchid. More will be revealed as the event begins and progresses. . . ."_

"They can't do this . . ." the woman muttered furiously. "They can't do this. They have no right, no right, _no right_ to take such a beautiful creature and lock her up so they can ogle her."

"You know, Ivy, muttering to yourself isn't exactly the best way to show you're sane," a familiar voice, seemingly calm but with an undercurrent of insanity, remarked.

"Shut up, Harley," Ivy growled.

"Why do you have to be so cruel, Ivy?" the blonde, Harley Quinn, asked her longtime partner in crime. "I learned a lot of things while I was on the outside, playing around in their world. I even know the perfect way to save that Black Orchid you love so much."

Ivy glared at Harley. "Talk fast."

Harley chuckled. "Listen well, Ivy . . ." she whispered as she moved behind the eco-terrorist and began to massage her shoulders.

* * *

At the New Gotham Metropolitan Museum, Daniel Graves stood before a collection of reporters and other media personalities that had gathered for first crack at the Black Orchid of the Sahara. "I can take questions right now," Graves offered.

"Mr. Graves, how was the Black Orchid able to survive in such an arid environment like the Sahara?" a reporter asked.

"Supremely efficient metabolism," Graves replied dryly. "Anyone else?"

"I would like to ask you . . . how do you live with yourself, confining such a beautiful creature like that?" a woman wearing a fedora low over her face and a trench coat closed tightly over her body asked.

"Excuse me, miss?" Graves asked.

Before he could get a more elaborate answer, that more elaborate answer came to him in the form of a giant tree stalk that ripped out of the ground, scattering the reporters. Security personnel immediately drew their guns at the hostile flora, but a whip-like vine knocked their handguns out of their hands, striking sharply enough that their hands bled as well. The vine, of course, had come from the woman in the trench coat and fedora, who had just tossed her fedora off to reveal her visage.

Red hair flowed unkemptly around a beautiful face so pale one could see greenish veins if one looked closely enough. Her eyes were green, so green they looked almost as though they were literally colored by chlorophyll. Her lips were painted green and temptingly full, just enough to draw men's attention.

Recovering their senses, the security personnel attempted to shoot at her, but the tree stalk coiled protectively around her and the bullets bounced off its sturdy frame. "Good girl," the woman murmured, stroking the tree stalk lovingly.

"Who are you?" Graves asked. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to take back what belongs to Mother Earth," the woman replied with a dark smile. "And I am here to avenge the sins you humans have committed against her."

"Are you . . . are you some kind of crazy eco-terrorist?" a reporter asked.

The woman smacked that impetuous reporter with another whip-like vine, hard enough that the recoil made the poor man's neck snap. He immediately fell down, unmoving on a not-so-slight account of being dead. Unmindful of the now-dead reporter, the woman ripped off her trench coat, revealing a dress seemingly made out of green leaves, leaves that clung very alluringly to her figure. Of course, it would have been alluring if she hadn't just killed a man.

"It's Poison Ivy," the woman announced. "And I am not a terrorist. _You_ are the terrorists. You plunder Mother Earth for your own self-serving agendas, to bring power and glory to yourselves with no regard for the innocents in your way." She turned to the assembled media. "You all probably ran over each other in your eagerness to be the first to break the story of how this man, this Daniel Graves, stole and subjugated the Black Orchid of the Sahara . . . and now, now you have a much better story to tell."

* * *

Back in the Clock Tower, Barbara's eyes widened when she saw the live news feed. "Isley . . . how?"

"_You getting this, Babs?"_ Dick's voice called in.

"Yeah, Dick, I saw," Barbara replied. "I'm routing Helena and Dinah there now."

"_Unless they start wearing something to conceal their faces, all they'll be doing is exposing the whole thing,"_ Dick warned.

"You're still not gonna give up on that, are you?" Barbara remarked.

"_No, but Det. Reese and I can call in some officers to evacuate the reporters and create a perimeter that'll enable your agents to operate with some cover,"_ Dick suggested.

"Sounds good," Barbara answered. "Keep me posted."

"_Got it, Babs,"_ Dick replied.

* * *

In the local library, where Dinah and John were studying together, Dinah heard a ringtone that she knew was the official "Birds of Prey" signal. "I gotta take this," she said. "Sorry."

"It's all right," John replied.

Dinah got up, picking up her cell phone and answering it. "Hello?"

"_Dinah, it's Barbara. Get dressed and meet Helena at the coordinates I'm messaging to you now."_

Dinah looked at the cell phone screen and saw a virtual image of the New Gotham cityscape, with a particular site highlighted. "The New Gotham Metropolitan Museum?"

"_It's a member of the old rogues' gallery,"_ Barbara replied.

"On it," Dinah murmured, albeit somewhat hesitantly as she looked back at John, who hadn't budged from his textbook.

"_Don't worry, you'll see him in school tomorrow,"_ Barbara said. _"Plenty of chances to make it up to him there."_

"You're right . . ." Dinah mused. "See you, Barbara." She closed the phone before walking back to John. "Sorry, but I gotta go now. Barbara just called. She says she needs my help with something."

"She's like your guardian, right?" John asked.

"Yeah," Dinah replied. "Been more like a mother, really."

"I understand," John said. "Rain check?"

"Rain check," Dinah repeated with a smile before leaving the library. John, having nothing to do now, pulled out his cell phone and turned on the online functions.

"Well, that's not good . . ."

* * *

Outside the New Gotham Metropolitan Museum, the police formed a barricade around the perimeter to keep Poison Ivy from escaping. Of course, the barricade had a second purpose – keeping certain vigilantes out of the way of the police. With the barricade, they couldn't just slip inside and ruin everything with their recklessness. At least, that was what Chief Rojas said.

Unfortunately for the cops, Poison Ivy had erected her own barricade around the museum of murderous plant beasts perfectly willing to chew up a few officers of the law if they got too close. Sadly, one particularly unlucky officer had found that out the hard way, and his comrades had had to watch as one of the plant creatures consumed him until not even bones were left.

"What the hell do we do?" one of the cops asked.

"Something!" another cop yelled.

"Yeah, we hold the line until SWAT gets here," a third cop interjected sharply.

"Against _those things?_" a fourth cop shrieked in panic.

"Keep your head on your shoulders," the third cop said. "Those things can probably smell fear." Just then, the cop heard something on his walkie-talkie, so he turned it on. "Hello?"

"_We're gonna try to use the roof access!"_

"Not the best idea you've had, Sergeant. Those plants are on the roof, too. Ivy's planned this out."

"_Damn it! Well, we still have to try!"_

"Do what you have to. We'll do the same."

At that moment, the cops heard the particularly loud roar of what sounded like a motorcycle engine. "What is that . . . ?"

Barreling down toward the museum like a speeding demon was a motorcyclist. The front of the motorcycle vaguely resembled the head of a bat, and the sleek chassis of the bike resembled a bat's body with its wings folded back. The rider was garbed in unsettlingly familiar dark gray-and-black armor complete with a long cape trailing behind him and a full-face mask with pointy ears resembling a bat's ears.

"Holy crap . . ." one of the cops uttered. "It's . . . it's . . . oh, hell . . ."

"_**It's the goddamned Batman!**_" another cop shouted, realization – and some mixture of awe and primal terror – sinking in.

Batman used one of the police cars as a springboard to vault right through the museum's roof access. At least, that was what he would have done had the plant creatures not reacted fast enough to catch his motorcycle. Jumping off the compromised motorcycle, Batman threw an explosive Batarang right at the motorcycle's engine. Upon impact, the motorcycle exploded into an inferno that consumed the monstrous plants.

"What the hell was that?" a cop yelled, shocked at the flames burning on the rooftop of the museum.

"Showy bastard," Huntress muttered, watching the infernal tableau from a somewhat safe distance, safe enough that the cops wouldn't see her face and make the connection with Helena Kyle. She wished she could go in there and show that poser a thing or two, but he'd had a point. Without a mask, she'd just get herself and everyone else exposed.

* * *

Inside the museum, everyone had heard the explosion. "My babies!" Poison Ivy screamed furiously. Her tone lowered to a vicious hiss. "Show yourself, whoever you are!"

That was when the skylight shattered, and a familiar bat-shaped shadow crashed down upon them. Landing in a crouch with his "wings" wrapped around him like a cloak, the shadow straightened up to his full height, revealing pointy ears and dark armor. The shadow glared at Poison Ivy with burning eyes, his face entirely concealed behind his mask.

"I'm Batman."

Ivy just laughed. "So you're back. After all this time . . . I'm going to enjoy this."

"No, you won't," Batman growled. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

The tree stalk that now served as Ivy's throne attacked Batman, its jaws snapping in eagerness to consume the Dark Knight. For his part, the Dark Knight just grabbed the tree stalk by its jaws and ripped its mouth open before slicing its head off with an extremely sharp Batarang. Furious to the point of screaming, Ivy lunged at Batman, lashing at him with her vine-whips with such speed and force that even the Dark Knight found it hard to react quickly enough to avoid them.

One "lucky" whip caught Batman by the throat, and Poison Ivy used it to yank him toward her, at which point she proceeded to beat him like a madwoman. "My babies? _My babies?_ Do you understand just what you've brought upon your head, Batman! Upon the heads of the people of this damnable city you love so much?"

Just as Ivy was about to strike a killing blow, Batman caught her fist and kneed her viciously in the stomach before kicking her aside. Twisting onto his feet, the Dark Knight cracked the vertebrae in his neck before shifting into a fighting stance. Ivy lashed at Batman again with her vine whips, only for Batman to catch both and use them as leverage to jump-kick Ivy.

Immediately, her other plant monsters swarmed into the museum through the skylight that Batman had broken to get in. Drawing six Batarangs and positioning them between his fingers, Batman began punching through the creatures assaulting him. As one lunged for him, Batman twisted over its head and kick-slammed it into a wall with enough force to turn it to pulp. Turning away from what was left of that creature, Batman punched another plant monster in its stem, using the Batarangs lodged between his fingers to rip it apart.

As he fought through the plant creatures, Poison Ivy charged to punch him in his masked face, but Batman chopped her arm to derail her attack and then kicked her legs out from under her. Twisting in midair to recover, Ivy landed on one of her larger plant beasts and slid down its back before springing off it to knee Batman in the head.

Bending backward to avoid Ivy's knee, Batman turned his movement into a backward handspring that ended with a kick to the nature mistress's back, knocking her to the ground. Intent on avenging their mistress, the plant beasts renewed their attack on Batman with even greater force. Jumping out of their grasp, the Dark Knight threw a multitude of incendiary Batarangs at the creatures.

Ivy ran to protect her plants, only for the exploding Batarangs to throw her back. "You . . . I'm . . . _I'm going to kill you!_" she screamed at Batman.

"You're welcome to try," Batman whispered menacingly.

At that moment, an invisible force propelled Poison Ivy into the wall and a hand grabbed her by the face before she passed into sleep. The owner of that hand, one Dinah Lance, turned to the former hostages and they all suddenly felt very sleepy – and suggestible.

_You never saw me here. Batman did everything._

The reporters nodded with blank expressions, just before Dinah literally vanished from sight. At least, that was what it looked like to the reporters; Batman saw her acrobatically ascend the levels of the museum before going through the skylight.

"Nice trick," he muttered before using a grapple gun to pull himself through the skylight as well. On the burned-out rooftop, the Dark Knight eyed Dinah. "You'd better hurry and get out of here."

"Same to you," Dinah replied with a slight smile. "That mind-whammy I laid on them isn't going to last forever."

Batman stared across the street to see Huntress gazing at him and Dinah with something indescribable. "You should get back to her."

"You wanna come back with us?" Dinah asked.

"I'll do that when I'm ready, and I'm not," Batman replied. "Not yet."

* * *

Later that night, Dick and Reese were ascending the steps to the Clock Tower. "That was some . . ." Reese trailed off. "Poison Ivy. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Well, Batman came back," Dick remarked with a levity he didn't really feel. "Shouldn't be that surprising."

"Indeed," Alfred greeted the two New Gotham detectives. "You should be careful, though, Master Richard. Miss Barbara is in quite the state right now."

"I'm sure, Alfred," Dick answered with a slight smile. "I'm betting Helena isn't that happy, either." He turned to the three women – well, two women and one girl – and flashed his most winning smile. "Can you believe it? He's really back."

"No, he isn't," Helena growled. "That's just some punk playing dress-up."

"Whoever he is, he took down Poison Ivy pretty hard," Barbara observed. She turned on the security footage that had been leaked to the media, albeit hacked so that Dinah's presence was completely omitted. "See those moves?"

"I see a little bit of Bruce, a little bit of Jason . . . a little bit of me . . . and even some of Tim," Dick replied.

"What happened to Tim, anyway?" Barbara asked. "I haven't heard from him in a long time."

"Checkmate," Dick replied. "As he sees it, he can make more of a difference that way. Not a bad idea in and of itself, but I don't really trust those guys."

"They're government," Helena remarked sarcastically. "It's practically a rule that they're untrustworthy."

Reese chuckled slightly at Helena's acerbic wit. "When you say 'a little bit of Bruce, Jason, you, and Tim,' are you referring to the original Batman and the other Robins?" he asked Dick.

"Kind of," Dick admitted. "This Batman's style relies a lot on agility, like my style does, but there's a lot of aggression and brute force mixed in with it, like Jason. At the same time, there's a kind of tactical finesse in there that reminds me a lot of Tim and Bruce."

"So what do you think?" Helena asked. "Daddy's been training up a new Batman while he was away?"

"It's possible," Dick replied. He looked at Dinah. "You spoke to him. What was he like?"

"Strong and silent type," Dinah answered. "Not the kind to really open up and interact with people, at least from the looks of him."

"Sounds a lot like Bruce," Dick commented.

"There's a live news feed going right now," Barbara cut in. "It's the mayor." She quickly turned it on, switching from the security footage of the new Batman to do so.

"_Ladies and gentlemen of the press, it is very clear that the legend known as Batman is no legend, no myth . . . but a very real and welcome presence in New Gotham,"_ the mayor declared. _"For whatever reason Batman chose to return after all these years, his actions tonight in protecting the Black Orchid of the Sahara from Poison Ivy are most appreciated. Unfortunately, it is also a fact that his presence has also roused his former foes from their solitude, a reality that must be dealt with by our dedicated police force before their rivalry with the Bat claims more innocent casualties. . . ."_

"Wow, I'm confused," Dinah remarked. "Is he praising Batman or is it all just backhanded compliments?"

"Politicians tend to talk out of both sides of their mouths," Barbara commented to her younger protégé. "A little something for everybody, no matter what they might personally believe."

"Hey, is that who I think it is?" Dick asked, looking at the screen.

"_. . . To this end, I am reappointing to Commissioner someone who knows Batman better than anyone, someone who is uniquely suited to deal with his numerous rogues . . ."_

"It's . . ." Barbara uttered before the words died in her throat.

"My word . . ." Alfred uttered.

"Who's he?" Helena asked.

"That's James Gordon," Dick replied.

"My father," Barbara added.

* * *

Elsewhere in New Gotham, two detectives had just stumbled upon a particularly brutal crime scene. Those two detectives were Ethan Bennett, a youthful African-American veteran with a shaved head and surprisingly green eyes, and Jim Corrigan, an older-looking Irish-American man with short red hair and a toothpick in his mouth.

"Look at this," Corrigan bit out. "Couldn't have happened to more deserving people."

"Nobody deserves this," Bennett argued, unable to look at the bloody tableau for long before having to fight down the bile rising in his throat.

"Suit yourself," Corrigan answered nonchalantly before shining his police-issued flashlight into the area. That was when he saw an interesting bit of graffiti . . . although it didn't look like graffiti so much as it looked like blood. "Hey, take a look at this, man."

Bennett looked at the sign Corrigan's flashlight had revealed. It was a message, written in what looked like dripping red paint. Or maybe it was blood. Bennett honestly hoped it wasn't, but given how much blood and brain matter had already been splattered all over this area, he wouldn't have been surprised.

"_Beware the Red Hood."_

* * *

End Notes: There you have it. Batman, whoever he is, has revealed himself to the people of New Gotham, and it's brought a very familiar face back to Gotham PD. Poison Ivy's returned, too, but will she be the only one of Batman's famous rogues' gallery to reemerge in New Gotham to challenge the new Batman? What of Harley Quinn's role in her longtime "friend's" escape from Arkham, and does it foreshadow her return as a major player in New Gotham's underworld? For the answers to those questions and others, hang on and be sure to review! Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!


	3. Shadow of the Bat

"Who Rules the Night?"

Chapter 3: "Shadow of the Bat"

Disclaimer: Batman, the Birds of Prey, and all associated or related characters and properties belong to DC Comics, the WB, and the CW. I make no money whatsoever from using them in this story, and this is solely for my personal amusement and hopefully that of my readers.

Author's note: Things are starting to heat up in New Gotham. Poison Ivy has made her grand reentry into the public scene, and Harley Quinn seems to have some inside knowledge to have helped her do it. Just what is Quinn up to, and does it have anything to do with the appearance of a new Red Hood? Of course, there is the matter of the new Batman to consider; who is he, really, and what does he want? The answers will come, but will the Birds like those answers . . . or even survive them?

* * *

Huntress and Dinah had split up to cover more of New Gotham with their respective patrols. For her part, Huntress was quite frustrated, stupid new Batman showing up on her turf and acting like he owned the place. Granted, that sounded a lot like how her old man had handled things during his time as Batman, but that just made her even angrier at the current pretender to the mantle.

The metallic scent of fresh blood interrupted her angry musings and she went to investigate, tracking the scent to an empty warehouse. "Funny how many of these there are," she muttered to herself before going in. With her enhanced vision, she was able to see several dead bodies despite the minimal light, and none of them looked like they'd died peacefully.

She sensed someone moving behind her, but that was all the warning she got before someone pistol-whipped her in the face, knocking her to the ground. "So who are you, tough guy?" she asked, wiping off her bloody lip.

"The Red Hood," the pistol-wielding man replied, coming into visibility. Huntress could see that the man was dressed in a black leather coat with biker gloves and boots over dark gray body armor, his face completely concealed by a smooth red helmet. "And I'm guessing you're this city's new Dark Damsel." He chuckled slightly.

_Red Hood . . ._ The Red Hood was the original alias used by the Joker, before he'd taken that fateful chemical bath that had bleached his skin, turned his hair green, frozen his face into a gruesome smile, and driven him completely insane. The Joker was the man that had crippled her mentor, Barbara Gordon, and sent Clayface out to kill her mother, Selina Kyle.

Seeing red, literally and figuratively, Helena went into combat mode and attacked the Red Hood, only for her strike to be blocked by his hand wrapping around her wrist. Helena twisted on her heel and spun into a roundhouse kick that hit the Red Hood in his armored chest, knocking him back. Helena pressed her advantage with fast, brutal jabs, only for Red Hood to catch the last one and pull her into a knee jab to the stomach that made her double over before he slammed his elbow into her spine and followed up with a knee to the chin.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" the red-helmeted man taunted her.

"Was it you who killed those guys?" Huntress asked.

"Yeah, so? They deserved worse," Red Hood sneered before pointing his gun at Huntress. With inhuman reflexes, Huntress dodged the gunshot and slapped his gun out of his hand. She went for his throat, only to be stopped by him pistol-whipping her outstretched hand and whirling into a kick to her stomach, knocking her back before he shot at her with his remaining gun. Huntress acrobatically outmaneuvered the Red Hood's bullets, her coat flapping as she moved before she threw a Birdarang at his gun hand.

The Red Hood, reacting fast, shot the Birdarang out of the air, but he wasn't quite fast enough to avoid a right cross from Huntress. Having staggered the Hood, Huntress once again pressed her advantage with a chain of vicious punches and kicks.

"Wow, you play rough, don't you?" Red Hood quipped. "You kinda remind me of me when I was younger, 'cept I never had boobs."

That got him a knee to the stomach and a brutal chop to the back of his neck. "Yeah, I play rough," Huntress snapped back. "You got a problem with that, laughing boy?"

"Laughing boy?" Red Hood repeated. "Who do you take me for?" He pulled three four-pointed shuriken out of his coat and threw them right at Helena's face, forcing her to dodge. At that close range, though, she wasn't fast enough to avoid getting shallow cuts on her face. This time, the Red Hood pressed his advantage, punching her in the face and kneeing her in the stomach. Huntress twisted into a sweeping kick that knocked Red Hood's feet out from under him, only for Red Hood to turn his fall into a backward flip that brought him back on his feet.

"Take off that helmet and I might just give you your answer," Huntress retorted.

"Nope, the helmet's to protect my face," Red Hood replied. "I got a real pretty face. Be a shame if something happened to it. Come to think of it, it'd be a good idea for you, too. Be a shame if something went and messed up a face like that."

"Let me guess, you got night vision in that helmet," Helena surmised.

"That'll be my little secret . . . little sister," Red Hood answered. And that was when Helena got knocked out. When she came to, she saw a slightly blurry Dinah in front of her.

"Helena? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, just got knocked around a little bit."

"Who?"

"Some joker calling himself the Red Hood."

"Joker?"

"Yeah, that used to be his alias, before the chemical bath. Wonder why he went back to it."

Dinah helped Helena back onto her feet. "Did he do all this?" she asked, referencing the dead bodies all around them.

"Yeah," Helena replied. "We'd better get out of here, before the cops decide to pin it on us."

As the two leather-garbed young women slipped out of the formerly empty warehouse, Huntress's eyes caught sight of a giant floodlight with the sigil of the Batman in its center. "Gordon must be trying to get the new Batman's attention," she muttered.

"Probably," Dinah murmured.

* * *

That wasn't quite the case, as Batman found out when he came down on the rooftop where the Bat-Signal had originated. Instead of the newly reappointed Commissioner Gordon, he found Dick Grayson and Alfred Pennyworth waiting for him.

"I have to admit, you've improved on the old man's costume," Dick remarked conversationally.

"Your point?" Batman growled.

"You've got the voice down," Dick commented. "Attitude, too. But you sure as hell aren't Batman."

"I am," Batman answered. "Just not the Batman you know. He quit, remember?"

Dick's eyes briefly flashed, but Alfred placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "You probably do not know the circumstances behind his departure, so I can forgive your impudence."

Batman tilted his head as though he were smirking beneath his full-face cowl. "Speaking of that, you mind telling us where he is right now?"

"I'm not aware of his current whereabouts," Alfred replied.

"Technically not a lie, but you have been keeping in touch with him, haven't you?" Batman rejoined. "I'm sure Bruce is aware of me by this point; he wouldn't want to leave Gotham completely unprotected, no matter how much he trusted his daughter and his ex-protégé."

Dick turned a fierce glare on Alfred. "Is he telling the truth?"

"Yes, he is, Master Richard," Alfred admitted heavily. "Did you think Master Bruce would completely abandon Gotham to its own devices, even if he was sure it was in good hands?"

"And you've been spying on Barbara and Helena for him, haven't you?" Dick deduced in a tone rumbling with tightly contained fury born of a sense of betrayal. "Give me one good reason not to tell them."

Alfred sighed sadly. "I do not have a reason for you not to tell them, but I do want to make sure you understand why. Bruce left Gotham not out of despair, but because he sensed the hand of a greater power than the Joker in Miss Barbara's crippling and Miss Selina's murder. He has been spending the past eight years chasing down clues to the true mastermind behind that terrible night."

"Who does he think it is?" Dick wondered. "Ra's al Ghul?"

"Heavens, no," Alfred replied. "Ra's is a ruthless madman, yes, but he is not quite so unscrupulous that he would hurt Master Bruce in such a way, and Talia loves him too much to let Ra's do something so horrible to him, even if he is her father."

"She was always jealous of Selina," Dick commented.

"Jealous, yes, but not so without scruples that she would allow something like that," Alfred answered.

"Then who could it be?" Dick wondered.

"Master Bruce doesn't know . . . but he has heard whispers on the global underworld's grapevine of an organization known as the Black Glove," Alfred confessed. "Whoever or whatever they are, all that is known for certain is that they deal in misery and corruption, spreading evil wherever they go for its own sake. At least, that is the whisper."

"They sound like bad Saturday morning cartoon villains."

Dick chuckled. "So you have a sense of humor."

"Why did you call me?"

"To pool our resources together," Alfred replied. "Whoever you are, you most certainly could use the help."

Batman gazed at Alfred and Dick with burning eyes. "And so could you. Your girls are unprofessional, going out with their faces exposed like that."

"Something I've tried to explain for some time," Alfred admitted wryly. "No such luck, I'm afraid."

"Who are you, anyway?" Dick asked.

"A friend," Batman replied. "That's all you need to know right now."

* * *

Inside New Gotham PD, James Gordon was getting the lay of the land. He'd been gone for the past seven years, and he needed to see how much things had changed in his absence. He saw some familiar faces, but he also saw plenty of new ones, transfers or recruits fresh from the police academy.

"Commissioner Gordon?" a voice asked, and Gordon turned to see a youthful black man walking toward him. "Det. Jesse Reese. It's good to see you here."

"Nice to meet you, Det. Reese," Gordon greeted, shaking the younger man's hand. "I presume you and the force have been keeping New Gotham in one piece while I've been gone?"

"With some help, of course," Jesse admitted with a slight smile.

Gordon smiled back. "Where's Chief Rojas's office?"

"Down the hall and a right turn away," Jesse replied. "You should be careful, though. He doesn't like the kind of help we've been getting, and he might take it out on you 'cause . . ."

"I know," Gordon gently cut him off. "Thanks for the heads-up."

As soon as Gordon reached the door to Chief Rojas's office, he knocked. "Come in!" Rojas roared.

Gordon opened the door. "Hello, Chief Rojas. How are you doing tonight?"

Rojas growled low under his breath. "How am I? You wanna know how I'm doing? I'm doing great, knowing that there's a bunch of vigilantes out there inviting the freaks to come out and play with them!"

"I doubt that's what they're doing," Gordon countered calmly.

"Yeah, well, did your precious Batman stop your daughter from ending up in a wheelchair?" Rojas snapped, earning him a dark glare from the commissioner.

"You might want to be careful what you bring up in conversation, Chief Rojas."

"Yeah, that was a low blow. I'm sorry, Commissioner. It's just that I'm so frustrated dealing with these crazies, and there's even this new guy coming out . . . calls himself the Red Hood, doesn't mind getting his hands dirty."

"How dirty is dirty?" Gordon asked coolly.

"Warehouse full of gangsters got pumped full of bullets," Rojas answered. "Few blocks off, some drug dealers got their throats carved out. The only clue we've got is some graffiti saying, 'Beware the Red Hood.' That's how we know what this joker is calling himself."

"The Joker?"

"No, not the Joker. Joker's gone to ground. Might be dead for all I give a damn. Someone else's using the name, all vigilante and crap instead of random slaughter for the giggles."

"Do you have any leads on who he might be?" Gordon asked.

"None so far," Rojas admitted. "No more than we have leads on who this new Batman is, and if he's got any connection to the original . . . or his little Girl Scout parade."

"I'm sure you'll find out eventually," Gordon offered neutrally.

"In the meantime, they're all giving me a huge freaking headache, and with Poison Ivy coming back, who knows who the hell else is gonna come crawling out of their holes to stir up trouble with the Bat?"

"Who have you assigned to the case?"

"I got Det. Reese and Det. Grayson from Bludhaven on the Batman case, and I got Det. Bennett and Det. Corrigan on the Red Hood case."

"Maybe you should have them work together, pool their resource."

"Sounds like an idea."

"Glad you appreciate it," Gordon answered neutrally. "I won't waste any more of your time. Just be sure to remember what I said to you before."

"Yeah, sure," Rojas grumbled as Gordon left. Upon closing the door, Gordon looked at a certain incoming detective and smiled.

"Good to see you, Dick."

"Rojas didn't give you too much trouble, did he?" Dick asked.

"Not much," Gordon replied amiably. "How's Barbara?"

"She's doing all right," Dick answered. "You talk to her yet?"

"Been trying to get settled in," Gordon admitted, "but I'm sure as hell gonna give her a call once I'm finished." He looked at Dick with a slightly wary expression. "You try to start anything with her again?"

"Not yet," Dick confessed. "Not that I don't want to, it's just that it's been a long time, especially since . . ."

Gordon placed a supportive hand on Dick's shoulder. "She probably still cares about you a lot, son. Just don't wait too long to let her know how you feel."

Dick smiled. "Thanks, Commissioner."

"By the way, I met your partner Det. Reese. I hear he and Helena Kyle are seeing each other."

"Uh-huh."

Gordon removed his hand from Dick's shoulder. "I'm gonna go, see what's what around here. You keep up the good work, ok? And tell Barbara I'll be calling in soon."

Dick grinned. "Sure, Commissioner. See you around."

* * *

Speaking of Barbara Gordon, she was in the Clocktower attending to Helena's injuries. "So this guy, he showed up in a leather overcoat and a red helmet, and he called himself the Red Hood?"

"Yeah," Helena confirmed. "Weird thing is, he didn't finish me off."

"If this is the Joker, he probably didn't want to kill you unless it was suitably theatric for him," Barbara mused darkly.

"But why wouldn't he just capture her?" Dinah asked.

"How am I supposed to know?" Helena groused.

"Could be a different guy behind the helmet," Dinah remarked.

"Sure as hell would explain why he was using guns and martial arts," Helena commented.

"Or he's trying out a new gimmick," Barbara interjected. "He tends to do that."

"Except before he knocked me out, he called me 'little sister,'" Helena brought up. "What was that about?"

"Guns and martial arts, calling you 'little sister' . . . it might not be the Joker after all," Barbara conceded. "Then again, your father was very private when it came to his personal life, at least the personal life he wasn't faking when he put on his playboy act."

"Could be that," Helena surmised. "Knocked up some chick, kid figures out Daddy used to be Batman, gets sufficiently messed up in the head, and then decides to go out and put holes in people."

"Except why would he call himself the Red Hood?" Dinah wondered. "Why not just call himself Batman?"

"Maybe that's what he's doing," Helena muttered suspiciously. "Playing both sides of the fence – use Batman as a symbol to put the fear of God into the common crooks and put on a red mask and leather jacket to kill off anybody who isn't scared enough."

"You think so?" Barbara asked.

"All possibilities must be explored, that much is certain," Alfred finally interjected.

"Speaking of Batman, I saw the signal go up," Helena commented. "Figured it might be Barbara's dad trying to get in touch with him, see if it's the old man or not."

"It wasn't," Alfred denied. "It was I and Master Richard. We wanted to meet this new Batman and try to reach an understanding with him."

"An understanding?" Barbara repeated.

"Yes," Alfred confirmed. "He could be an advantageous ally."

"Or he could be just another nutjob in a mask," Helena countered. "Hell, he might be the Red Hood, too."

"It is possible," Alfred admitted. "Unlikely, but possible."

"Don't worry, I'm not offended," a voice responded. "If I were you, I'd be suspicious of me, too."

Helena whirled at the sound of the voice and saw Batman standing in the shadows of the Clocktower. "What are you doing here?"

"Alfred invited me," Batman replied. "He even said we could pool our resources so we could work together more cohesively."

Barbara gave Alfred a disbelieving look, while Helena was just outraged. She was about to attack Batman when a red blur stopped her, ceasing only to reveal itself as a man in a skintight red costume with yellow piping. A yellow lightning bolt set in a white circle stood out on his chest, while a cowl complete with a pair of yellow-tinted goggles with lightning bolt-shaped stems covered his face.

"Cozy setup you got here."

"Are you just inviting all the superheroes to come over here and hang out?" Dinah asked Alfred irritably.

Wally dashed over to the blonde in a red speed blur. "And hello to you, too. You must be the new Black Canary, at least according to word on the grapevine."

"You know about me?" Dinah uttered confusedly.

"Sure I do," Wally replied airily.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Helena asked.

"I was looking for Dick, but he blew me off, so I figured I'd come here and pass the message along," Wally answered.

"What message?" Barbara asked.

Wally peeled off his cowl and goggles to reveal a youthful redheaded man with twinkling green eyes that had, for the moment, hardened with utmost seriousness. "You remember when the sky was bleeding six months ago?"

"Yeah," Barbara replied.

Helena remembered, too, specifically that Dinah's psychic senses had been on fire, practically crippling the younger woman. She'd been confined to her bed for days, unable to do anything but stare into space and occasionally speak in riddles and tongues. Helena hadn't had the easiest time of it, either; her feline side was in near-total disarray, which had left her more human personality indisposed in trying to deal with it. There had just been this great cosmic sense of wrongness that neither she nor Dinah could shake.

"I remember," Barbara went on. "Coordinating you all wasn't exactly an easy thing to do."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Wally remarked. "For those of you who might not know, we were dealing with a cross-dimensional crisis – incursions from other realities that were merging with ours. We managed to stop it before the instability could get us all killed and take the entirety of reality with us, but there were some aftereffects."

"Like what?" Dinah asked.

"Things that we remembered as happening a certain way . . . well, they either didn't happen at all or something else changed," Wally explained.

"Like a time-traveler tampering with history?" Alfred surmised.

"Yeah," Wally answered. "More relevantly, it means people that were supposed to be dead weren't so dead anymore, and people who had no business at all in this world . . . they have business in this world now."

"Get to the point, Wally," Batman snarled.

"Well, Bats, you wanna tell them, or should I?" Wally asked.

"Fine," Batman growled, taking his mask in both hands, one hand at the scalp and the other at the mouth, and undoing the full-face cowl to reveal the face of a dark-haired teenage boy with piercing green eyes.

"John!" Dinah exclaimed. "You're Batman?"

"Yeah," John Malone confirmed.

None of the Birds were able to shake the impression that they'd seen "John Malone" before. At the very least, he had very familiar facial features. Seeing those eyes especially reminded Barbara of a person she once knew, someone who'd been very close to her before . . .

"Now what were you going to say, Wally?" John asked.

Before Wally could answer, Barbara started laughing out loud. "What's so funny?" Helena asked.

"John Malone," Barbara replied once she'd calmed herself, but her amused expression remained. "I know someone who called himself Malone. Two people, in fact . . . the original Batman and the original Robin. What's your real name, pal?"

"John Grayson," John admitted.

"_Grayson?_" Barbara repeated.

"My word . . ." Alfred uttered. "Master Richard certainly never spoke a word about a son before."

"This guy's from an alternate universe," Wally explained. "Otherwise, I'd be one of the first to know about Dick having a kid. His reality, and wherever it is Red Hood came from, converged with this one during the crisis, and even though it was averted, some pieces of those other worlds stayed with this one, and vice versa – hence Batman Junior . . . and him."

John glared sourly at Wally at the moniker of "Batman Junior," but Wally just stared insouciantly at him. "Nice try, kid, but I've gotten the glare from the real thing," Wally retorted flippantly before turning to the Birds. "Anyway, tell Dick I said hi. Later." He re-donned his cowl and goggles and dashed out of the Clocktower, leaving the new Batman alone with the Birds of Prey and Alfred.

"You're a kid," Helena spat.

"Not quite," John replied. "Doesn't stop me from getting carded every time I want a drink, though. I'll meet you tonight at No Man's Land . . . out of costume. I don't need everybody knowing the whole story just yet."

"Then why tell us anything?" Barbara asked.

"To establish some trust," John answered, pulling his mask back on. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped into its customary low growl. "I'll see you in school, Dinah." Before anyone could react in time, Batman had jumped off the Clocktower's balcony and opened his cape to glide away on the air currents.

* * *

The next day, Chief Rojas called in four of his detectives, those four being Dick Grayson, Jesse Reese, Ethan Bennett, and Jim Corrigan. "Chief?" Corrigan asked.

"You wanna know what I brought you here for?" Rojas asked.

"That would be nice, yeah," Corrigan replied.

"Batman . . . Batman and the Red Hood," Rojas spat out. "They're connected somehow. That bat-freak and the nutcase in the hood shooting people up are connected, one way or another, and the four of you are gonna be working together to figure out how."

"You want us all working together?" Bennett asked.

"Is that gonna be a problem?" Rojas sneered.

"No, no problem," Bennett replied calmly.

"First Batman shows up, and now this punk in a hood is going around offing drug dealers and gangsters," Rojas grumbled. "It's gonna be freaking anarchy in the streets if we let them go on like this."

"Red Hood aside, Batman has done some good for this city," Bennett remarked. "Thanks to him, people are starting to have some hope again."

"Yeah, until they find out what he really is," Rojas snarled. "A glory hound in a freaky bat costume."

Bennett was about to protest, but Corrigan held up a hand to stop him. "All right, Chief, you want us to investigate those two, we can do that."

"What about the rest of you?" Rojas asked.

"We can manage," Jesse replied, while Dick nodded his assent beside him.

"As of now, you're on the case," Rojas stated. "And I better see results, or I'll have the four of you working a beat."

"Yes, Chief," Dick replied.

"Go on, get out of here," Rojas snarled. "I'm not paying you to sit here and stare at me."

The four detectives left, all of them agreed on two things: 1) Batman wasn't quite the menace Rojas seemed to think he was, and 2) Rojas was a prick par excellence. The funny thing was that despite Dick's and Jesse's connections to the Birds of Prey, neither of them had any more of a clue who the new Batman was than their new partners did. They did know, however, that this case had the potential to lead back to the Birds' doorstep and get them exposed, something neither would allow to happen, even if it cost them their careers.

They just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

* * *

Inside another abandoned warehouse, the Red Hood was staring down a set of gangsters, the seconds for the men he'd slaughtered the previous night. "You see these?" he asked, throwing down a duffel bag full of severed heads, all of which belonged to those same gangsters' superiors. "That's what I did to your bosses. That's what I can do to you, but I'm in a good mood today, so I won't. Not right now, anyway."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" an outraged gangster shouted.

"I'm the one who's gonna be making some changes in this town," Red Hood replied. "You pieces of garbage have been growing fat off this city's blood for years. Well, it's time you put some of that misbegotten profit to better use. You'll get to keep most of it, though, provided you do as I tell you."

"And what's that mean?" another gangster asked defiantly.

"It means as long as you stay away from children, as long as you keep out of the schoolyards and the playgrounds, I'm going to make you all very rich bastards," the Red Hood replied. "And you'll be protected from the Birds of Prey, from the Batman, from the cops, and from your rivals. Try to screw me over, though . . . or deal to children . . . and you're dead. Am I understood?"

One of the gangsters was about to raise his gun to take his shot at the Red Hood, only to get his gun hand shot off. "_Am I understood?_" the Red Hood repeated.

"Y-yeah," the other gangsters quickly assented, not wanting to meet the same fate as their bosses or their companion.

"Good," Red Hood snarled. "Then gentlemen . . . we'll have quite the partnership. Just remember what I told you, and you'll be fine."

* * *

Endnotes: That's the end of this chapter. The Red Hood has made his debut in the Birds of Prey universe, and everybody's struggling to deal with the sudden changes in their world, especially now that Dinah knows that this Batman is really her new school friend John Malone. Despite that, a name doesn't entirely explain the truth behind the new Batman, a truth that the Birds may not necessarily be ready for, particularly in light of his possible connection to the Red Hood. Meanwhile, Chief Rojas has his detectives on the case to expose and apprehend Batman and the Red Hood, but will it just lead to more danger for the Birds? For the answers to those questions and others, hang on for the next chapter and be sure to review and let me know what you think.

P.S. I know that last scene came from Under the (Red) Hood. It had to be in there to emphasize the actual difference between this Red Hood and the other vigilantes. He's not just another Batman minus the "no-killing" rule; he's also a Machiavellian bastard with no problem exploiting the criminal underworld for his own objectives. As far as he's concerned, he's doing what has to be done, regardless of what anybody else might say about it. That's about it. Thanks for reading!


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